Honest to everything holy. Someone has decided to try and kill me.
As always, I’m giving you the option of skipping this post. Okay?
And yet, you’re still here.
What is it about poetry that makes me defensive? Perhaps, this is for another post.
Okay, so today’s prompt is trust; the form is acrostic; and the device is internal rhyme.
Okay…let’s see if I can even do one of these let alone all three.
Trying to find my footing with you is like
Running in circles. You tell me one thing, but
Ultimately, do the other.
So, where, my friend, does that leave us?
Turning away from you and your words.
Eh, I did the acrostic and I even threw in trust, but the internal rhyme? Nope.
Let’s try again.
Don’t let the door hit you on the way out, she said, to me.
Always shouting doubting yourself but never standing up.
Meandering thoughts, never focusing on anything.
Nearly missing kissing the girl from all these thoughts.
Ending up not trusting yourself when you should.
Debilitating. Fearing. Jeering, when you should be celebrating.
Shame clouding your head, dread filling your soul.
Heat building inside, waiting for the fuse.
Almost swearing, caring; no love for yourself.
Missing the point, not listening, eyes fearful tearful.
Everlasting happiness seems far away when your shame sits on your soul.
I suppose that was easier…if it did throw me for a loop there….